lf, and tragedy results. This I had occasion to see over and
over again: how nature triumphed over the most resolute idealism and
brought about in the end either ugly passion or pathetic unhappiness.

As Terry began to doubt his deepest hope, as he began to turn away from
the ideas about which his salon was formed, he saw and felt more
clearly the limitations of Marie's personal character; and her acts
began to hurt him. Perhaps he began to lose faith in both--Marie and the
Salon--at the same time.

"I am afraid," he wrote, "that the days of the salon are numbered. I am
of the opinion that most of our latter-day radicals are on a par with
our latter-day Christians. They have grown weary, or wary, of their
original purpose. They seem to think Liberty a beautiful goddess who
will never come: they willingly believe in her as long as there is no
danger of or in her 'coming.' How frantically most of the radicals
signal back the 'waiting' reply: the track is not clear for the coming
of Liberty!--and they do not want to have it cleared!...

"You will be surprised to know that I have dropped the radicals, with
the exception of Thomson, and I fear he too must walk the plank and go
by the board. I am becoming quite implacable toward these intelligent
people, and the salon will soon be void of my presence. The spirit of it
has gone already and cannot be revived. That is why I left my mother's
home--because the spirit of home had gone--and why I must leave the
salon. I cannot submit to being a discordant spirit; therefore I must be
a wandering one.

"So I must leave Katie and Marie. If I could make a living I would work
for it, as I did when I thought so. But I shall never work--or toil
rather--for sheer subsistence except behind the bars. I am driven to be
a parasite, for honest living there is none. The time is up, and I must
leave. Several years ago I ruined whatever robustness I had by tending
bar so that Katie might knock down some three hundred dollars. At one
meal a day and a place to try to sleep, I think that she and I are about
even; she also thinks so, though she never says so, to me. She is
willing and able to take care of Marie, for she has five hundred dollars
in the bank and a great love for the girl."

Terry, sometimes terribly frank, is extremely reticent about Marie; and
the account of their misunderstanding comes mainly from her letters:

"I have had such a bad misunderstanding with Terry, or he with me, I